a maid’s three-year-old daughter quietly approached the mafia boss’s massive dog after even an experienced handler had failed to calm him — then, while every terrified adult kept their distance, the little girl sat beside the soaked animal and gently began wiping him dry. instead of growling, the feared dog slowly lowered his enormous head into her tiny lap and refused even his owner’s command to leave. but the biggest surprise came the next morning, when the mafia boss discovered his fiercely loyal dog had abandoned his usual place… to wait outside the maid and her daughter’s door.

The main reception hall of the Moretti mansion was designed to intimidate. Soaring ceilings, dark marble floors, and family portraits dating back to the early 1900s framed a grand fireplace that threw violent orange shadows across the room.

Jimmy Valenti stood near the fireplace, brushing snow off his leather trench coat. He was a broad, slicked-back man with a jagged scar running from his lip to his ear—a souvenir from a prison riot in upstate New York. Behind him stood two heavily armed bodyguards, their hands resting noticeably inside their heavy jackets.

“Aleandro!” Jimmy boomed, his voice echoing off the high stone walls as Aleandro walked down the grand staircase. “It’s a hell of a night to drive out to the suburbs!”

“Then you shouldn't have driven, Jimmy,” Aleandro replied, stepping onto the marble floor with unhurried grace. He didn't offer his hand. “You’re six hundred miles outside your territory. State your business before the snow locks the gate behind you.”

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed, but he maintained a greasy, arrogant smile. “Come on, Aleandro. Is that how we treat old friends? My uncle sent me to deliver a personal message. We heard a rumor that a ghost from New York slid into Chicago a few months ago.”

“Chicago is full of ghosts,” Aleandro said coldly, crossing his arms. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

“A woman,” Jimmy said, taking a step forward. His bodyguards shifted subtly behind him. “Sophia Vance. The widow of that filthy thief Julian. Word on the street is she’s hiding out in a domestic service agency that supplies staff to high-end estates in this exact Zip Code.”

In the shadows of the second-floor balcony, hidden behind a velvet curtain, Sophia stood frozen.

She had heard the commotion from the hall and, against Aleandro’s orders, had crept out to see what was happening. When she heard Jimmy Valenti’s voice, a cold, sickening terror gripped her stomach. Her knees nearly buckled. They had found her. The men who had dragged her husband out of their apartment three years ago were standing fifty feet below her.

Down in the hall, Aleandro’s expression didn't change by a fraction of a millimeter.

“My estate employs thirty-two domestic staff, Jimmy,” Aleandro said smoothly. “Every single one of them goes through a background check performed by my personal security firm. If Julian Vance’s wife were here, I would have put a bullet in her head myself and sent her ear to your uncle as a gesture of goodwill.”

Jimmy chuckled, though his eyes remained sharp and suspicious. “Is that so? Mind if my boys take a quick walk through the staff quarters? Just to satisfy my uncle’s paranoia?”

“If your boys take one step past that archway,” Aleandro said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper, “they won't walk out of this house alive.”

The tension in the room snapped taut like a pulled wire. Jimmy’s hand twitched toward his belt line. His bodyguards stiffened, ready to draw.

Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from the upper corridor.

A tiny figure slipped through the velvet curtain on the balcony above.

“Mommy!” Emma’s clear, high voice rang out across the silent hall. “Bruno found his teddy!”

Sophia gasped aloud, lunging forward to grab her daughter, but it was too late. Emma was leaning over the mahogany railing, waving down at the room. And right beside her, stepping out of the dark shadow of the upper hall, was Bruno.

The massive dog let out a low, gut-rumbling snarl that echoed off the high rafters like thunder.